Karma's a Nonexistent Bitch

Karma. The oft shouted word by people who can't accept reality. The people who don't believe nice guys finish last. The concept that being nice and helping folks will pay out like some cosmic slot machine. Guess what? Fucking bullshit and a half. People always tell me not to be so mean or belittle others because it will come back to me someday. Never happened. Well, maybe in reverse. I had my share of tragedies growing up well before I became a jaded jerk. So did I commit some offense in another life, or did the gods know I would be a prick and thought to get at me first? I don't know.

How many horrible human beings have never had to pay for their sins? The Rockefellers, Reagan(scratch that, he got Alzheimer's, but way later in life), Terry Bradshaw, and Puff Daddy come to mind. Oh, and Bin Laden. Plenty of innocent people who never had a mean bone in their bodies have suffered immeasurable pain and agony. How do you explain this? Can't. I am nice to people in general. Good coworker, good friend and good citizen. But do I worry when I do dip my toe into the pool of evil that it will somehow come back to bite me? Not really. The worst that can happen is my shitty house burning down or the Eagles reuniting in my front yard. I've seen the lowest lows of mankind(nursing homes, poverty, corporate exploitation of the middle class, death, disease and selfishness). The only thing I can do is point out the frauds, be honest, and do my part to somehow make people's lives better without the threat of retribution from some imaginary force that only exists in the minds of the delusional.

Paper Cu*ts, er...Cuts

Was talking sports collectables at work and it jogged my memory about some highly collectable items known only for their vulgarity. First was the mighty Billy Ripken card with the expletive on it. The only reason you would know this guy(besides being related to that stiff Cal Ripken, Jr) was because of this card. It even eclipsed Cal's cards for a while back in the 80's based solely on the swear on his bat. It was withdrawn then reissued incorrectly. That second card became even more collectable before the third version came out that was worth nothing.

Another great item that comes to mind is the withdrawn Moby Grape debut album from 1967. The first pressing features a bandmember flashing the bird. The second version omitted the offending digit. They were a great band rivaling the likes of Jefferson Airplane and the Byrds, but in some circles are primarily only known because of the naughty album cover.

If you know of any other offensive treasures in this vein, feel free to drop me an email/comment and I will gladly post it.

WWBT Promotional Items

Paradise on Wheels

In my previously posts, I wrote about my job driving cripples and smelly old people around. One frequent stop was any of the trailer parks that litter most of Lake County, Ohio. There are small ones tucked away behind shopping centers and factories in the western half of the county. These are basically empty lots with poor people living in them. But in the eastern half, there are full blown fiefdoms the size of small European countries that are nothing but mobile homes.

They have glamorous names like Sahara and Paradise. The "street" names(basically dirt paths) are exotic sounding like Waikiki, Mauna Loa, and IckyPickuptrucka. The traditional set up for a mobile home is a yard the size of a welcome mat, a tin overhang meant to mimic the roof of a patio, folding chairs, religious paraphernalia(stones with the enscription of "he is my shepard") and empty packs of cigarettes.

You might think I am belittling these folks(maybe just a little), but I find these communities to be fascinating! It feels like entering a hippy commune or some other secret compound when you drive into one. And if you're not careful, you can become lost and remain there for an indefinite period of time. I should try driving through one now with my gps and see if it has their bootleg streets programmaed into it. Another thing I'm in awe of is how these people can live apart from normal society in such secluded self contained worlds. Sorry, maybe that also applies to gated communities. Come to think of it, they aren't that far apart...winding fake streets, generic housing stock, inbreeding. 

You know what they say, if you don't like your neighbors, you can just drive your house somewhere else. Anyway, I really do miss cruising through those places. They were an alternate reality. They were a visit to Never Never Bathe Land without doing drugs. Though I'm sure the places were rife with illegal substances. Maybe someday when I alienate everyone I know, I'll end up in one.

Klan in the Front

Easter weekend. Did some yardwork which included adding some flower beds near the sidewalk. Mulch is my friend. My house is pretty much the neighborhood eyesore. Anytime I get it looking nice, something happens to make it a complete embarrassment. Last summer all the grass died. Rather than replant that crap, I decided on low maintenance flowers. So the next day I'm walking my dog in the old neighborhood where I grew up. It's a flat, bland, post war, cookie cutter suburb with no tree lined streets, interesting architecture or even a hill to climb up. My eye was drawn to all of the randomly landscaped yards. Most just had ugly bushes hugging the house with the odd stone circle around a tree every third house. These people have never watched HGTV. This got me thinking about the truly classic and tasteless front yard decorations we white people have grown up with in our soul sucking suburban youths.

Of course, everyone knows the lawn jockey. They come in caucasian and African equestrian American. But the black ones have always been deemed racist(they do tend to have sambo-ish faces). I feel like they aren't even tasteless anymore. They have transcended it and become kind of retro kitschy cool. Any hipster would put one in his apartment if it wasn't crowded with Michael Jackson lunchboxes.

Next you have the bent over gardening lady cutout. This is some form of weak striptease that gave birth to the "upskirt" genre of porn. I've never actually seen anyone completely bent over in this fashion in the yard. Seems like it would be bad for you. There's also the silhouette of the guy smoking a pipe that is often combined with the equally ugly "dude ranch western style split rail wooden fence". Ick. Oh, and let's not forget the wagon wheel! I don't get that one at all.

Other ugly yard fixtures are the ubiquitous gnome, the white trash modern art known as gazing balls, the old school pink flamingo(that's more of a trailer park thing, see next post), and the truly despicable fake wishing well. Look, we have working sewers, I know that well isn't real. To bring it all back around to racism, I spotted one last ornament as I left my old hood that night. Someone had erected a full sized light up cross for Easter. If you squinted just right, it kinda looked like a burning cross. Stick to plastic eggs next time, neighbor.

Royal Pain

It's almost here! The most obnoxious wedding in history. And my favorite royal isn't even speaking up about it. I'm talking about the original "Fergie". That dame has bad taste written all over her. Anyhow, I've always made fun of Princess Die. Way before she died, and certainly much more after. I was on a date the Labor Day she became royal jelly. I made some tasteless remark to my date about the late Princess wearing the car's crankcase as the crown jewels or something to that affect. That girl stopped returning my calls for a few months. Ha.

My other favorite players in this charade are racist Prince Harry, drunken Camilla and Prince William's two front teeth(Nigel and Henry). What do you think they'll be eating at the reception? Probably not middle eastern food. As for the wedding night get down session the young couple is sure to enjoy, do you think they'll invite a catering girl up for some double decker bus action?

To close, who can forget this truly awful (and by awful, I mean inappropriate and hilarious) impression of Di by ER's Anthony Edwards on SNL a long time ago? Good luck, kids! Godspeed.

You Want Fries with That?

Compton funeral home opens up drive thru. Just saw this on the Today show.

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-adv-drive-thru-funerals-20110417,0,931381.story

The line still moves faster than an actual funeral procession.

True Tales from the Road

 I used to drive an ambulette for about seven years in the 2000's. That is the practice of taking the disabled, mentally challenged, and elderly around town to their various appointments. I would strap their wheelchairs, or worst case scenario, gurney, into a dilapidated van and brave the pothole strewn streets of the greater Cleveland area. I had no proper medical training. But I had a driver's license! That was pretty much the prerequisite for this ghoulish occupation. I really liked alot of the poor souls I transported, and I hope I served some greater purpose in the long run. But this minimum wage job was filled with near death collisions, angry rider tirades, and visits to some of the scariest locations(nursing homes, mental institutions, and Super K).

One story that pretty much shaped the person I am today took place in 2005. I had to pick up an elderly gentleman and drop him off for some chemo/radiation treatment at Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights. I was helping him through his attached garage to the van when he collapsed into my arms. He promptly went into a lifeless spasm, we both fell to the ground and he pissed on me. I had been poorly trained in CPR and when his wife screamed for me to do something, I did the only thing that came naturally. Fake it. I wasn't about to put my lips anywhere near his, so I cupped my hands, put them over his twitching mouth and mimicked what CPR looked like on tv. She called 911. Good call, lady. They showed up and carted him away. At that point, it was assumed he would be revived. I was then instructed by my superiors to go about the rest of my route. So I did. Almost catatonic from the event, I hit the road.

A few hours later, I ended up at the hospital they had rushed him to. I ran into his wife by the ER and inquired about his status. Gone. He had died in my arms. Yay. Just what I needed to live with the rest of my life. I feigned heartache, hugged her, and went back to my van. The months following this incident were filled with guilt, alcoholism and crying fits on the kitchen floor. Ask my wife. Real fun time for her.

Anyhow, I have plenty more stories about this job, but I think this one was the apex of fucked up experiences in my life. I just thought the piss and fake CPR fit nicely into this blog.

Robin Williams

Old Dogs

2007 License to Wed

 2006 Man of the Year
 2006 RV
 2002 Death to Smoochy
  1999 Bicentennial Man
1998 Patch Adams
 1997 Flubber
 1996 Jack
1996 The Birdcage
1995 Aladdin on Ice (TV movie)
1993 Mrs. Doubtfire
1992 Toys
1991 Shakes the Clown
1990 Cadillac Man
1988 The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

Need I say more?

Disney Deaths

Disney deaths are a phenomenon I first heard of on the Opie and Anthony radio show. They are the reputed rash of amusement park ride related maimings and deaths that result from riding one of the poorly maintained and undersupervised attractions at Disneyland or Disney World. They are covered up by Disney and according to them, never happened. But, believe me, when I plopped into my seat for Space Mountain out in Anaheim, they were most definitely on my mind. I cowered in fear to avoid decapitation as the rattletrap coaster lurched forward into certain death. As you can clearly tell, I somehow survived.

That is not to say, however, that scores of other poor unsuspecting tourists have not met their untimely ends to the strains of "It's a Small World After All" while wearing a fanny pack full of Disney brand ketchup packets. Happiest place on earth? I think not, Uncle Walt. Too bad not one of the litany of superbowl winning quarterbacks who immediately vow to go to Disneyland upon becoming champions has met this fate. God knows we don't need any more of them becoming worthless broadcasters after they retire.

I Can't Ski, Babe

Salvatore Bono aka Sonny is , correction, WAS one of America's national treasures when it came to awful cultural contributors. Sure, he's well known for his foray into primetime tv with Cher. His musical career not withstanding(I happen to be a fan and think his 60's music was very pop savvy), he was in bad movies, was a senator(the worst thing you can possibly do to America) and died in quite a distasteful manner. He starred in the original Troll movie. It first became relevant to me as a movie that J.K. Rowling ripped off. There's a laundry list of those. Now Troll 2 is the bad movie du jour for bad movie fanatics. But that first one was equally as bad, and featured Sonny as a creepy neighbor who wanted to boink anything that moved.

 Then of course, he was elected to Congress(way to go America). He then gave us a daughter who became one of the first celebrity transgender offspring(are there any others?). While that is fine by me, chop off or staple on whatever genitalia you so choose, it is definitely a notch in his belt.

To cap it all, he died by skiing into a tree. That moment always stands out to me. I was on a Cleveland college radio comedy show back in the late 90's called Hog Wild. When we heard that he died, our first response was to break out into an impromptu rendering of I Can't Ski Babe on the air. We miss you, Sonny. You were a leading light in the battle to ruin music, tv and film. God bless you.

My First Porno

A rite of passage for every boy is seeing his first porno mag or video. Further yet, another rite is sharing this story with your male buddies. I have heard all of my buddies' stories and countless others from radio dj's to musicians. I don't think anyone has ever heard mine. I play it pretty close to the vest. Well, here goes...

I'm fifteen. I have never seen a vagina. Sure, I had seen breasts and pubic hair since I was eight. This ranged from artsy movies to the topless calendar in my dad's workshop to the stash of Playboys belonging to my uncle(Shannen Doherty, omigod...) that I found at my grandma's house. But the whole enchilada? Nada. Then came junior year at vocational art school. My buddy had acquired some Club magazines( not about club sandwiches, though there was some meat between buns pictured) from another student. He was so riddled with guilt and afraid of his parents, that he wrapped them in plastic, soaked them in GASOLINE and deposited them in the trash can behind the school. I caught wind of this info and knew immediately what I had to do. Have my mom drive me to pick up my first hardcore porn rags. At this point all I could get my hands on was the Victoria's Secret catalog and, sadly, the underwear section of the Spiegel catalog.

So I tell my mom that another student drew some naughty cartoons disparaging the teacher, but had disposed of them. I said I wanted to retrieve them to expose said student. And she went for it! This may be the genesis of my rotten behavior. I mean my mom condoned it! So, I get the gas soaked rags, put them in a plastic bag and head home with the most anticipation I'd had since Super Mario Brothers 3 came out. Next came (as a friend of mine recently stated) a whirlwind of masturbation. That's how he described unemployment. You know what, he's right. Since then, of course, I've seen every despicable sex act(and performed a few) possible thanks to the internet. But this story harkens back to the days when seeing some punani wasn't as simple as clicking a mouse. Back then, you had to practically plan with as much detail as a bank heist.

David Arquette

He just finished his week sitting in on the Howard Stern Sirius radio show. I admit I never gave the guy a second thought until this week. But looking back on his resume, it is chock full of tasteless material. He co stars in one of my favorite movies, Ravenous(about cannibalism on the American frontier)to be covered in much more depth later. He also starred in Ready to Rumble, a movie about pro wrestling. This movie led to him actually participating in pro wrestling and winning a bullshit belt which he retained for a short time. I also saw him in a film called Slingshot where he plays a menacing drifter/grifter who robs lonely older women with a pal.



 He has been a really good sport on the show this week in light of his marital problems and reputed alcoholism. The callers and Stern show members have not been kind. But this guy knows he's living a Peter Pan existence of irregular work, partying and sex with groupies. Most distasteful of all, he has sex with that balloon lipped, skeletal tv skank Courtney Cox.

Death Pools

 Death pools have been popular since Bob Hope hit 90. Everyone was shocked that he wasn't dead yet. I would have conversations about him and people would be flabbergasted. "You mean he's not dead yet?", they would retort. Eventually he did leave this mortal coil, but not before ruining many death pools by outliving many stars expected to outlive him by decades. Traditionally you want to bet on a really old celeb, someone in a destructive, drug fueled tailspin, or a rapper. Right now you might want Lil Wayne, Lindsay Lohan or Queen Elizabeth. They are all drugs!

Right now my money's on Betty White. She's really, really, really ooooollldddd. Plus her schedule is more packed than ever. She has to give in soon. The one on the bubble is Dick Clark. He had a stroke and is never seen in public except for that horrible New Years Eve show. The variable is his bank account. Dude has about a kajillion dollars that could aid in keeping him alive well past 200. I say 50/50 for about the next ten years.

Dick Cheney? Bad bet. This guy is prehistoric and post historic. He'll be laughing at this blog after googling his name sometime in the year 3085. Do not take him in a death pool. He might get elected to the White House in the next 20 years, though.

Pickled Punks

I first heard of the College of Physicians Mutter Museum on the Opie and Anthony show back around 2000. It has been covered by many other blogs, so I'll just give a quick once over about it. It truly exemplifies what I regard as awesome bad taste. Located in Philadelphia, this creeptorium houses all manner of human oddities preserved for eternity(or at least until Marilyn Manson buys them for his house). Giant and little people skeletons, body parts, conjoined twins in jars and lots of rusty things that used to pass as medical equipment.

 "Pickled punks" are the fetuses in jars that really bring in the crowds. We won a free three day stay at the Philly Ritz Carlton from my wife's work back in 2004, so I eagerly anticipated a visit to the Mutter to see these little runts. I was not disappointed. It was a horror movie brought to life. They had a special exhibit on infectious diseases which convinced me that I had smallpox by the end of the tour. Oddly, I had scalded my hands on some hot tar at work the day before we left for Philly(again, don't ask). They were all blistery and red. I should have shaken one of the employees hands and asked them if they knew what condition I was suffering from.

The only downer is the gift shop. The extent of cool things to buy are little rubber skeleton keychains. I thought for sure they'd have something more gruesome for purchase. I highly recommend going here when in Philly.

Goofing On...Coworkers

So I have this really smug, antisocial new "colleague" at work. He thinks he's somehow my superior and writes me condescending memos that assume I'm barely literate. Truth is he's not my superior, job-wise or intellectually. Well, I guess everyone hates him and it's getting to him. I discovered a note he had written to, I assume, my crew and me. But it reads like a diary entry. He writes," I'm only 22, but I have a system and I think it can work here." I've complained that he never has to work Saturdays even though all full timers are required to work some Saturdays. His note goes on," I am not available weekends because I run a historical society with my parents." Go ahead, let that one sink in.

What kind of nerd loser douche spazz has that going on, let alone admit to it! "Hey baby, ever make it with a guy wearing George Washington's teeth?" We rip on him mercilessly now(behind his back, but within earshot). How do you give people who already don't respect you that kind of ammo? He probably online chats with girls while wearing a Civil War uniform or just a coonskin cap while he "packs his musket". And he runs it with his parents! "Mom, can I punch out and go eat by myself at a diner like the loser I am?" "Not until you've dusted off Abe Lincoln, sweetie. Here, this johnnycake will tide you over." I almost pity him. Maybe I should save all his memos for the Smithsonian.

Great Moments in Bad Taste: Serial Killer Trading Cards

I remember first hearing about these in my youth and not really being offended. However there was an uproar about them as preachy no nothings went on shows like Sally Jesse and Geraldo to complain about the moral decline of America. Themselves not realizing the irony of appearing on these shows which were the actual moral decline of America.

A few years ago, I stumbled upon some in my father in law's computer room. They have the stats of how many people the killer snuffed out, what year the crimes took place, and how they were later executed. The funny thing is they are still routinely looked at as distasteful. Even in the face of a show like Dexter which wins awards for glamorizing a serial killer. It would be ironic if there comes along a serial killer who rides a bike and he has one of these in his spokes when he gets caught.

Goofing On...Foreign Women

I'm sorry, but there's nothing more unattractive to me than a foreign accent on a lady. This does not include British or Australian accents. Most guys love Asian girls, Russian girls and Latinas with thick accents. I'd rather poke my ears with oxen penises. Back in the day all the supermodels were foreign(Helena Christensen, Paulina Poriskova, now Giselle). I hate all of them. Not only are they not attractive, but the accent makes them ten times more so.

Nowadays we have to sit through legitimate Hollywood movies and tv shows with these annoying windbags. Penelope Cruz led the way. The current blithering airhead du jour is Sofia Vergara. I cannot stand listening to her talk. Her ridiculous size GGG breasts only amplify what a mindless blow up doll she is.

Funny thing is my mom is foreign and has a thick accent. You would think I'd have patience and maybe even an affection for such an attribute. Nope. I hate it. My favorite Howard Stern gag was whenever they would play natural sound of a foreign actress and then play a sound effect of a chicken or other animal as they spoke. Give me a good southern American accent over a foreign accent.

Great Moments in Bad Taste: Ohio State Fair

This past summer Devo came to Ohio. They were playing the state fair in that cow pasture/strip mall known as Columbus. We decided there would be no better place to witness De-evolution(what their name references) than amongst the actual de-evolution of man kind at the state fair. I had been to the state fair once before. Think of your local county fair and multiply it by 100. 100 times the muffin top, 100 times the rat tails, 100 times the consumption of Pepsi. It was awesomely scary. Then we went to the show. They came out very energetically for men their age, while being backlit by bizarre art films they had made. The question loomed...would they play Mongoloid? You can't say that word any more let alone sing it. I thought for sure my favorite song(about a blue collar schmuck who punches a clock and manages to feed his family despite being completely brainless) would not grace my earholes. Then lo and behold they started into it. The hardcore fans went nuts. Even the deaf interpreter off stage rocked out. She had been signing on stage during the opener to what I'm assuming was a large deaf contingent. At a concert. Whatever. Maybe the fact that no one knows that word, thanks to our dumbed down schools, aids the band in getting away with such an offensively titled salvo of genetic blunder bashing. Hearing this parable of the puny minded at that hay strewn venue was truly a Great Moment in Bad Taste.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZDl_R8Zp2E

The Man of the Hour

This blog started partly because of Gilbert Gottfried. I have been a fan of his since hearing him on the Howard Stern show back in the late 90's. He disappeared from real comedy for a few years while picking up voice work with Disney and Aflac. He returned in scorching form in The Aristocrats, a documentary about an improv joke that comedians have been riffing on for decades as a sort of secret handshake in the business. Pretty much everyone in said movie sucked except for him and Carlin. He followed this up with the amazing Dirty Jokes cd. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i5KbqGHoJ4  I went right out and bought it! Punchlines include dead hookers full of semen, homosexual men in a hot tub full of semen, and Bill Cosby talking about semen. Great stuff. Also pretty offensive. But did Aflac mind? Hell no. They forked over the cash while Gilbert did that stupid duck impression.

Fast forward to February 2011. I was bored harassing people on Yelp, so I decided to finally break down and get a Twitter account. This was just in time for the Oscars. That night Norm MacDonald, Anthony Cumia( from the Opie and Anthony show) and Gilbert had me rolling with their live Tweets about the idiots on stage. This was a few weeks after Ricky Gervais had flamed everyone on the Golden Globes. Suddenly, awards shows were the thing to watch if you wanted a laugh. Anyhow, a few weeks after that, the tsunami hits Japan. I start texting people nasty stuff(as I did right after Katrina, Haiti, and pretty much any other tragedy). Who is the only one with the balls to say anything on Twitter? Gilbert. I was shocked that he would say these things in a public forum, but absolutely delighted. I felt so privileged to be there at that moment as he took on the world from his apartment. Of course the backlash has been laughable, hypocrtitcal and downright uninformed regarding this dude. I just wanted to pledge my undying support for this champion of free speech and unflinching humor.

Wahoo for Openings!

 So Friday was opening day for the Cleveland Indians. I'm sure some Native American was protesting the mascot somewhere downtown. The really offensive activity was the Bob Feller tribute that preceded the game. The mopey, solemn ceremony involved his widow placing a baseball out on the field instead of the traditional first pitch. So of course, my fingers were texting away the dirty jokes to people at the game.  Some highlights:

Travis Hafner's bat has less life in it than Bob Feller.

What did Steve Olin(the late decapitated closer) say to Fausto Carmona before he took the mound? Don't lose your head out there.

How do you know Travis' wife has a gaping vagina? Because he's "Half-in-her."

Bob Feller is stiffer than the foul pole.

Can we just stop with all the crying and shit ? It rings false when everyone does it all the time. Especially at a corporate event being televised to guys drinking Bud Light while they download You Porn to their phones. So sorry if the moment didn't move me. How else are we to survive this upcoming laugher of a season than by poking fun at the team and ourselves? Believe me, I get plenty of practice texting during Browns games. Speaking of sports, Cleveland just introduced their "lingerie league" football team. This is being hailed as revolutionary, however, I distinctly remember hearing that Jeff Garcia of the Browns wore lingerie. Been there, done that.

As for the Cavs, well at least we beat LeBron once this year in our house. A member of the James family hasn't been pummeled that hard since his mom, Gloria, took a load of hot sauce from Delonte West last spring.

Too Soon? Blow me.

Japan is in shambles, Charlie is on drugs, Liz is dead, and Haiti is worse than ever. That last one is a joke. In this world of extreme cruelty, the only thing that will help us through is to laugh. However, in this very same world exists legions of politically correct weenies who can't find the humor in anything. I have had my run ins with social networking sites over my tasteless jabs. I've also been shunned by people I've known personally for blurting out vulgar sentiments. Each time it happens I become even more dedicated to the spreading of bad taste throughout the land. By my side is my father in law. He is the only person who shares my worldview. Nothing is sacred, everything is funny, and all races and religions are full of crap. So to start this venture with a bang, here is our favorite dirty singer, Blowfly. More on him to come...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVfDWXgzE4M